The Final Words of Victor Lazlo
After the disappearance of Victor Lazlo in December 1984, his diary was published as his last book, The Final Words of Victor Lazlo. Excerpts Here exclusively are excerpts from the book The Final Words of Victor Lazlo, with thanks to the publisher. Blind Arrogance of Man Modern man. What a proud peacock, so smug in his high-tech world. Safely nestled behind the sturdy walls of science. How we mock and sneer at the so-called "primitive man" with his simple ways and foolish superstitions. We smile and suppress a laugh when the Australian aborigine explains that the drought has ended, because "evil ones" have been driven away by the Shaman. We cringe when we read about the blood sacrifices of the ancient Aztec Indians and other elder cultures. In our arrogance, we mutter under our breath, "How pointless, how sad, how ridiculous. Just another of ancient civilization's obvious failings!" Snugly locked in our artificial world of concrete, steel, polymers, fiber optics, microwaves and dancing atoms, we look down at our past and try to forget foolish beliefs in magic and demons, luck and supernatural forces. Knowledge, scientific "truth" is our ticket to salvation. An elitist attitude that blinds us to the ancient truths that scream not to be ignored. Especially one fundamental truth: "We are not alone." We have never been alone. And the "others" are not our friends. Can it be that the Aztec's blood sacrifices, as cruel and, perhaps, wicked as they may have been, were used to draw on an enemy's mystic energy? An energy used to smite their enemy or build great stone pyramids. Not pointless, not foolish, not some archaic superstition, but a shrewd, merciless means of attaining very real power. Is it possible that the aborigine shaman really has chased away evil elemental spirits or a malevolent demon - an alien invader who can control our weather? I continue to believe the answer is yes. Man may dominate this planet, but he is not yet its master. There are other beings who share our world. Alien beings from other worlds. Creatures that feed on humankind like invisible, malignant parasites drinking our life's blood, stealing our energy and feeding on our fears and emotions. Our forefathers had many names for them - demons, devils, evil spirits, vampires, werewolves, zombies, goblins, faeries, trolls, dragons, and on and on. Some are predators who simply hunt and feed on easy human prey. Others arc cunning maleficent beings who delight in tormenting and abusing us humans or using us like pawns in some twisted, macabre game. Others are lost travelers. while still others arc abominations of nature destroying all they encounter. But they arc all real and exist today! Now! It seems I have written these words to this effect a thousand times, and a sense of futility begins to weigh heavy on my bones. I have given countless lectures and presented what I felt was conclusive evidence, but I seem to be waging an endless campaign against a willful ignorance. The men of science, my colleagues, refute all evidence and brand me a charlatan or madman. For every question, they devise an answer, regardless of how foolish or contrived. They cling tenaciously to their laws of nature and manmade theories that they revere as a godsend. To the public they inspire trust, and they ridicule, ever so cleverly, the existence of magic or the supernatural. They have created an environment where the mere concept of the paranormal and supernatural forces is instantly relegated to the realm of fantasy. It makes me so angry. Not that they besmirch my reputation, but that civilized man can be so blind and arrogant. How can I make people believe me? I have seen horrific creatures and fought monsters that I dare not write about in published venues for fear of convincing everyone I am, indeed, insane. Yet I bear their scars and could call upon a thousand eyewitnesses. And if I, who seem to have the ear of some people, cannot get through to the powers that be, what then will be the fate of humanity, or at least modern civilization? How many hundreds of thousands (millions?) must perish at the hands of an invisible foe in an invisible war? It makes me want to cry when I ponder the subject for too long a period, and I try to convince myself that I'm making a difference. With each passing year I see the denizens of evil creeping into our cities and growing in numbers. Creatures that once hid in wild. desolate places far from the reach of man are returning. They have realized that mankind no longer sees or hears them. They know they have become shadows that can slip past us unobserved. They have stayed so quiet for so long that mankind doesn't recognize them for what they are, even when they stand revealed. And so they laugh, bold-faced before the eyes of science, and remain unseen. It makes them bold and aggressive, especially as they begin to realize that the old technology, "their" technology, the ways of magic, are lost and forgotten and can no longer harm them. Armed with psychic abilities, magic and evil intent, and aided by the blind apathy of man, the demons have returned unopposed and hungry to make mankind suffer. I listen to myself and wonder. What will become of me and those handful of others who have unearthed some of the lost secrets, and do oppose these otherworldly invaders? Are we a threat or an occasional nuisance? Do we really make a difference? And if we do, and our numbers grow and our voices begin to reach the masses, what then? Will any one of these demonic obscenities take notice and try to destroy us? I don't know why, but that question has preyed on my mind a great deal lately. Perhaps it is just old age creeping up on me. Slowing me down. Making me paranoid. Still. I'd feel more secure if there were more of us. Otherwise, we'd be so easy to hunt down, one by one, and be terminated. I fear few would even notice our disappearance. In fact, if I disappeared tomorrow. I doubt there are many people who would notice my passing, and I'm certain there would be a large number who would be happy my voice was silenced.''Beyond the Supernatural, 2nd Edition, Pages 225-226 Lazlo's Final Words ''It is an unseasonably warm afternoon for an Ohio December. There's no snow on the ground and a gentle breeze that must be the last warm fingers of autumn stirs the air. I'm drawn again to the Serpent Mound. All my usual questions and speculations are doing a warpath in my head. I don't know why I find this place so alluring. I guess, for me it's the North American Stonehenge. ''Jawaharlal has warned me that he feels restless spirits afoot. I hope so. I'd like to experience something extraordinary at my favorite megalithic site and consult with a shaman from an ancient time. But I don't feel a thing. Jay has learned to master his Psychic Sensitive abilities quite well over the past few months. (I only wish he'd master the English language as quickly. Ha!) This time, however, I think it's his paternal instincts coming forth and not psychic intuition. It's getting dark and I still have to light my lantern and set up camp before I can continue my musings. More later.''Beyond the Supernatural, 2nd Edition, Page 226 References Category:Books Category:Excerpts